“Ready?” Ivy said brightly as she finished adjusting her jacket. She was dressed in her usual black leather pants and silk shirt, looking lanky and predatory. The only color to her face was her bright red lipstick. A chain of black gold hung about her neck in place of her usual crucifix—which was now tucked in her jewelry box at home. It matched her ankle bracelets perfectly. She had gone further to paint her nails with a clear coat, giving them a subtle shine.

The jewelry and nail polish were unusual for her, and after seeing it, I had opted to wear a wide silver band instead of my usual charm bracelet to cover my demon mark. It felt nice to get dressed up, and I’d even tried to do something with my hair. The red frizz I ended up with almost looked intentional.

I kept a step behind Glenn as we moved to the front door. Inderlanders mixed freely, but our group was more odd than usual, and I was hoping to get in and out quickly with the information we came for before we attracted attention. The van that pulled in after us was a pack of Weres, and they were noisy as they closed the gap between us.

“Glenn,” Ivy said as we reached the door. “Keep your mouth shut.”

“Whatever,” the officer said antagonistically.

My eyebrows rose and I took a wary step back. Jenks landed upon my big hoop earrings. “This ought to be good,” he snickered.

Ivy grabbed Glenn’s collar, picking him up and slamming him against the wooden pillar supporting the canopy. The startled man froze for an instant, then kicked out, aiming for Ivy’s gut. Ivy dropped him to evade the strike. With a vamp quickness, she picked him back up and slammed him into the post again. Glenn grunted in pain, struggling to catch his breath.

“Ooooh,” Jenks cheered. “That’s going to ache in the morning.”

I jiggled my foot and glanced at the pack of Weres. “Couldn’t you have taken care of this before we left?” I complained.

“Look, you little snack,” Ivy said calmly, putting herself in Glenn’s face. “You will keep your mouth shut. You do not exist unless I ask you a question.”

“Go to hell,” Glenn managed, his face reddening under his dark skin.

Ivy shifted him a smidgen higher, and he grunted. “You stink like a human,” she continued, her eyes shifting toward black. “Piscary’s is all Inderlanders or bound humans. The only way you’re going to get out of here with all your parts intact and unpunctured is if everyone thinks you’re my shadow.”

Shadow, I thought. It was a derogatory term. Thrall was another. Toy would be more accurate. It referred to a human recently bit, now little more than a walking source of sex and food, and mentally bound to a vamp. They were kept submissive as long as possible. Decades sometimes. My old boss, Denon, had been counted among them until he curried the favor of the one who had granted him a more free existence.